31 July 2008
Love: The Gift of Sleep
There was a time when waking at 5:30 was normal. Never acceptable, but usual. That was too often in the first year of both kids. Longer winter nights and increasing age of the kids stretched wake-up time, but not often beyond 6:45. 6:45 is awesome. Awesome in my new view of the world. The problem is that if I'm not sleeping in, my body prefers 7:30. For a very long time, I woke early six days a week. Sundays were my day to sleep. Sometimes I lingered until 9. I bitched about it so much that every so often, Augusto woke to avoid my wrath. Then my second maternity leave ended. There was no way I could be up with the baby at night, get up in the early morning, and work all day. On my three workdays, Augusto got up with the early riser, and I slept. On the other days I rose first then tried to nap.
Then I discovered the hidden benefit of weaning. I left the morning feed as the last, so after the last time, Augusto did the final weaning. After a ten day stretch, I tried to get up with Otto, but he clawed at my chest and cried for 45 minutes. I couldn't hack it.
It's been six weeks since we nursed, and our household has done a schedule switcheroo. Augusto gets up with one or both kids, and I sleep. Except on Sundays, when he gets his turn. It has become a blissful, miraculous norm. Today I only had a half day at work, so when Otto sounded off earlier than usual, at 5:40, I offered to get him. Augusto protested, then thanked me for doing what has apparently become his job.
This is LOVE.
28 May 2008
wake in love
4:22 am
"Mama, I'm going to pull up the covers." Stella has taken her spot on the floor next to our bed and feels compelled to rip me from my detailed dream.
5:36 am
"Momm-ee!" Otto calls from what should be the kids (plural) room. I consider letting him fuss a little. Stretch him closer to a better 6 am wake time. Then I remember Stella needs her sleep and his cries might wake her. So I go to him. He rises to my arms and heaves us toward Stella's bed. Her soft, empty twin futon on the floor. We snuggle down and I offer him the breast. Shifting. Nursing. Covering my free nipple from his twiddling fingers. And we fall asleep.
6:14 am
I am attacked by full mouth kisses. Big Otto kisses on my chin, my lower lip. Smacking noises and small wet teeth. And I am laughing. This is so much better than a cat tail or dog breath in my face. And just as quickly, Otto hops off the bed, is padding out the door, looking for "Papai?!"
***
Yes, Stella's spot on the floor. It was a threat at first. Our queen mattress was feeling small and Otto had finally gone into Stella's room. We wanted our space. Our nighttime, grownup space. So I said it, if you want to come and sleep with us you need to go on the floor. I put down some padding and blankets, thinking she'd never do it. Of course she slept on the floor. Night after night. Every night since then. And now I feel like a horrible mother, with her preschooler's head sometimes wedged under our bed or her legs on the bare wood across the room- having tossed herself there in the night. I have begged her to come up into our bed. "I like it on the floor!" When she comes from her room at 3 or 4 or 5 am, I have lured her with warm covers, the space between us, a better pillow. "I like it on the floor!"
***
Our kids move in and our of our space on their own schedule, usually before or after we are ready. I have almost weaned Otto. Our morning nursing is all we have. When he messes around with his free hand and tugs at my other nipple, I want the next time to be that last time. Then I remember I will never nurse another child. I am done. I came so far from the first letdowns (no pun intended), that it is really hard to let go now. I don't have to wean him, but we're planning a no-kid-night-away next month. Our first EVER since Stella was born. Nighttime, grownup space, you know?
15 August 2007
Drunk Without the Buzz
Otto is 7 months old today. He is still not sleeping longer than 4 hours at a time. I’m getting up 2, 3, 4 times a night and working 3 days a week. And I got whatever sniffly, coughing, raspy, achey virus the kids had. A nurse at work told me when her son was 5 months old she ran away for one night. Literally left with barely a warning. She pointed her husband to the frozen breastmilk and spent the night in a hotel.
I’ve never been a night away from the kids, but I have a screaming loud physical need to curl up in a bed for 24 hours. Any bed. I’d take even 8 hours if they could be free from baby coughs, nursing, Stella night-talking, husband farts, pee habits, and post nasal drip. I don’t have any more frozen milk, but we do have formula and a baby that needs night weaning anyway. Could I do it? Sneak away? I don’t know if I could, but I know I need it.
A local man forgot his 11-month-old son in the car and went to work all day (only realizing it too late when his wife called to ask why daycare said the son was never dropped off). In the wake of that tragedy, the paper published a you-think-it-couldn’t-happen-to-you piece- and convinced us that it could- with results from a UCSF sleep study. It found that people who are sleep deprived (only 4 or 5 hours a night for as little as a week or regularly interrupted sleep) perform on tests at the same level as a person who is legally drunk. I can’t imagine forgetting my children in a locked car, but I can relate to a busy, sleep-deprived life where a slight change in routine can throw off a whole day. And make you do something you’d regret forever.
Fortunately my offenses include putting cereal boxes back in the fridge and showing up at work in my flip-flops. I’m legally drunk without the buzz. Whoo hoo.
***
On a more positive note (strictly, oddly related the mouths), Otto cut his first tooth on Sunday. Stella chewed her first gum tonight.
***
I had so many other deep and clever things to write about, but like a drunkard, I can’t remember what they were. So I’ll just pass out now.
01 August 2007
Just Thinking
I am sitting here pre 7 am (way before my pre-kid days) after one measly 4 hour stretch last night and then Stella woke up to pee. And then Otto was up an hour and a half later. You do the math. I know how short it was without counting. Augusto up for the 4 am potty break, but the slightest loud breath wakes me these days. Lying in bed is far better than carrying 30 something pounds to the bathroom. So I can’t really complain about it.
It makes me crazy how much of the time I want for the past or hope for a change in the future. The focus of our childbirth prep class was being in the present. Meditation. Taking a big breath. Dropping the Doom of Dwell. I worked really hard at it. Or didn’t work hard. Whatever I was supposed to do. Let go into the moment. I sucked at the practice. There is nothing like labor or a newborn to keep you mindful of the present. I hung around for those… but now I’m a time traveler. Monday I was so grateful for my job and looking forward to my increased hours. Yesterday I was pining for my maternity leave as I strolled to the playground and library, latte in hand. (When out on a weekday, I’m always amazed at how many people are window shopping, sitting at cafes, not working or caring for children. What ARE they doing? Self employed? Trust fund? Laid off and taking a break from the job hunt?)
Anyway. I’m up after too little sleep and will be heading to work in an hour, so let me be present with this gift: this happy, babbling little guy all to myself before the rest of the house wakes and the rush of the day begins.
23 June 2007
P.S. I like letters
So I'm actually up after 10pm, happily noodling away on the computer, joining Facebook like a co-ed. I was shocked to find 6 people from my address book already had Facebook pages. (Three of them are my 20-something cousins, but anyway...). I haven't figured it out yet- just what exactly it is that I can get out of Facebook, but I am gathering friends and have already"poked' two people. I don't know what happened to them when I did it, but i hope it felt as fun as it sounds (although poking my own cousin doesn't sound legal).
I also found this article in a cool new mag I found after joining Work It, Mom!. The author writes a letter to a seat mate traveling alone with two small children. I can't tell you more because I don't want to ruin your read. Just the other day I received a letter from Southwest Airlines letting me know that they forwarded my thank you note to the flight attendant who helped me on my return flight with the kids. I also wrote a note to the passenger who helped me on the outbound journey. After reading the piece by Vibrating Liz, it's interesting to imagine what their experience was. It's also a reminder to slow down.
21 June 2007
And why am I still awake?
Sleep is one of those essentials like food and water. Sleep deprivation is a common form of torture that is deplored by human rights groups. This is Otto’s sleep schedule from last night:
8 pm go to sleep in crib
12:30 nurse in chair, go back to crib
2:30 cry for 12 minutes, fall back asleep while mom buries her head under the pillows
3:30 come into bed, nurse
5:30 nurse in bed
7 am wake up
I went to bed at 10pm, so I was up 4 times with a maximum 2.5 hour stretch. Did I feel tortured? A bit. Otto is 5 months old and weighs over 13 pounds. He should be able to sleep longer stretches than 2 to 4 hours. Add to this rumination playground chats about babies who actually do sleep, mamas who have a glow in their cheeks, and in-laws who think letting a baby cry is cause for calling Amnesty International, and we have one crazy, exhausted, working mama in Oakland.
He got 2 decent naps today, 10- 11am & 2-5 pm so we’ll see how tonight goes… Supposedly sleep begets sleep. I better start mine.
16 June 2007
Pile of Milestones
We are a house of milestones. Every time we arrive at putting on a shirt, zipping a boot, descending stairs, we get smarter, more confident in our parenting. Then we have a new set of skills to master, a new type of tantrum to face. And we question ourselves.
Stella is completely diaper free. She’s been 5 nights in “unterVear.” Last night she gave away the rest of her diapers to a friend. She’s really excited about pooping in the toilet. So much so that she waits to flush (another favorite activity) and runs to her father or grandmother and says, “Look, I pooped. Come see!” She then leads them to the bathroom. Once when Augusto was at work, I convinced her that saving her stinky poop in the toilet all day was not a good option, she drew a picture of it. A really good picture. Her first representational picture. I’m a proud mother, what can I say?
Otto is laughing at Boo and Raspberries, flipping over onto his belly at every chance, doing push-ups and breakdancing (the wave?). He’s working on some teeth. He’s also sleeping longer stretches of 5 or 6 hours. They’re happening mostly before I go to bed, but I know it’s a start. After three plus weeks of travel, sleeping in a small bed with him, and sharing a room for all four of us, he became a boob monster and baby who needed too much parenting to sleep. So instead of following the progress to a likely place of jiggling or nursing for 45 minutes before bed every night, we started crying it out. He’s 3 month’s younger than Stella was when we did it to her. He’s never really cried more than 30 minutes in his whole life, but I don’t want to get to that awful angry place we went with Stella before we finally caved and let her cry to sleep learn to sleep on her own. Ideally, we would have completed the job before the Vovos (grandparents) arrived, but we didn’t. For naps and nighttime he usually fusses and/or cries for 5 or 6 minutes- but it ranges from 1 to 14 minutes. It is hard to listen to, but I do believe it is ultimately good. Or else my kids will need years of therapy to undo all of our parenting mistakes.
It’s so hard to know what is “right.” It’s also hard to let go or stop worrying about what is “right.” Every parent chooses her own way to teach, discipline, feed, clothe, diaper, talk to, or even play with their child. Of course we want “the best” for our kids. But that judgment varies widely. I have spent countless privileged hours researching schools, sleep tactics, diaper choices, baby carriers, recipes, and even toddler chair and table heights. I have stayed up hours later than is good for me, twisted my neck and shoulder out of whack, and lost actual face to face time with my husband or kids or even other people. Sometimes I think it pays off. We end up with a product or routine that works for us. But how can I really know if I wouldn’t have been as happy (or happier?) with something entirely different?
I need to remember that every time we let go of our expectations or fears, something good happens. Like with diapers. I wanted Stella to be out of diapers before Otto was born. Then soon after. Then I gave up. That’s when she mounted the toilet at my Mom’s house. It is the same thing with preschool. I stressed so much in the beginning, found a fantastic school, stressed more about it, missed the deadline for mailing in our deposit, kicked myself, then got waitlisted at our “inferior” neighborhood school because we’re not a “working class” family that wants 5 days/ week. So I just gave up. Then a new school opened that I think we’ll love when we see it next weekend. Will it be perfect? Will it be right? Will it be better for Stella than Montessori or any of the half-day (which doesn’t work for a working couple like us), wait-forever pay-a-fortune schools in our area? I don’t know. And I think I don’t care- as long as she loves it.
17 February 2007
News and Confessions
He took it! He took it! Otto took milk from a bottle! It took us five days to get around to the big attempt, but he sucked it up without complaint. We were waiting for the “perfect opportunity,” a.k.a Stella not around and Otto hungry. We should know by now that perfect opportunities of any kind rarely present themselves. So finally we had a relaxed Friday night with my visiting father putting Stella to bed. Otto woke from a nap, and I sneaked off into hiding. Augusto presented him with the warmed milk and gave the thumbs up.
This victory means the Habitrail run is a little shorter and dinner and a movie or a professional massage are in my foreseeable future.
Other breaking news just in: Otto smiled and cooed repeated times today despite the fact or because I am a bad mother. This is the confession: Sometimes I put him to sleep on his stomach. He sleeps so much better on his stomach. Truly better, longer, quieter. I preach Back To Sleep to my patients and even use a logo-adorned official sleep sack. But Otto is loud and gassy and loves being on his belly. And I am full of excuses. If he’s not on his belly he grunts most of the night. He sleeps through it, but Augusto and I are kept awake. I figure I slept on my stomach because my mother was told if I slept on my back I would choke on my spit up and die. People thought hormone replacement therapy was safe. People thought caffeine in pregnancy was dangerous. Research can be refuted a decade later. And we don’t smoke or over bundle or do any of the other things that are associated with SIDS. So at 3 or 5 in the morning when I’ve had a little sleep and am therefore not sleeping so deeply the rest of the night, and when Otto is grunting loudly enough to wake the neighborhood, I just roll him over. Does it worry me? Of course. But I do it anyway.
09 August 2005
Shut It Out
We started out as co-sleepers. Well, we started out with an organic pregnancy, had her at home, carried her in a sling, delayed vaccinations, the whole natural parenting thing. We did it that way because we believed it to be the best for our baby. We still do. And we swore we'd never cry it out. Many parents say the same, but I was really opposed. I judged the other mothers in my group- especially those who eagerly planned the day they would begin to Ferberize. How could anyone, especially a mother, let someone they love cry alone- for a long time or some prescribed number of minutes? Who would let his friend cry without comforting her?
I knew the trend these days is to let 'em cry, so I armed myself before she arrived by reading the No Cry Sleep Solution. I learned some very helpful facts, these two being the most important: 1. for an infant, 5 hours of sleep IS sleeping through the night; and 2. "sleep problems" are really in the minds of the parents, not the bodies of the babies. My understanding shifted as I read, and I arrived at mothering expecting no sleep miracles. We were good for a long while. We had a bedtime routine. Book, sing, nurse to sleep. She would sleep for four or five hour stretches, and I counted my blessings. Then she started getting teeth at 4 1/2 months, her first cold at 5, and began nursing every two to three hours every night. I was already back at work and quite accostomed to my four hour stretches of sleep. I started to have a "sleep problem" and doing something about my child's sleep patterns seemed the only way to fix it.
We moved her from our bed into the co-sleeper with sadness. I loved sleeping with her even though it tweaked my back. A couple of months later, we detached the co-sleeper and placed it progressively farther from our bed. At 6 or 7 months, we moved her into a crib. I tried to stop nursing her to sleep by using the Pantley Pull Off which involves sneaking the nipple out of the babe's grip and holding your breath praying she'll stay or go back to sleep. It was very frustrating. So many nights and naps we jiggled her until we felt we could jiggle no more and then we bounced (but she much prefered the jiggle. We should have never watched the Happiest Baby on the Block. It generated thousands of dollars of chiropractic bills and mama-sobs in the night. But that's another story). My resolve vanished along with my good humor. I was ready to pack for the Funny Farm.
I know, it's all an excuse. You've already figured out I'm leading up to Why We Did It. Unlike all of those other evil parents, our situation was so bad that this cruel method was justified. Yeah, right. Perhaps I caved to peer pressure. Many of the mothers in my group had reported great success with it. They looked so... fresh at our gatherings. And they responded to my own cries cautiously- I am the Queen Granola of the group- "You know, you don't need to suffer like this." Perhaps it was a result of my research. I couldn't find a single family with a child between 1 and 5 who didn't do it. When I asked my friend with 2 children how she got them to sleep. She said she had them cry it out. "The first at 9 months. The second at 6. Both times when my exhaustion was greater than the stabbing in my heart listening to them cry." This easy admission from a woman who trumps my naural ways. She didn't do ANY vaccinations and lives in Fairfax, a town with an artful balance of imported french linens, sweaty bicyclists, art films, aging rock stars, pot heads, and investment bankers. What I do know, is that I didn't want to be angry anymore. I was angry at Stella for shrieking after I jiggled her for 40 minutes and tried to put her down. I was angry at my husband for sleeping so well through my 3 am pacing. I was angry at the cat when she sneaked into the room and I had to chase her, silently, in the dark beause Stella was finally asleep and the cats aren't allowed to sleep in our room. I was angry at myself for being a bad mother.
So one evening, one emotionally intelligent mama who had tried the method, had a relapse, and was back to jiggling, walked me through a plan. My husband and I wouldn't have been able to plan so efficiently. It would have required days of emotionally-laden debates- time that I didn't have because I couldn't take one more night of being awake from 1 to 4 am on a work night. When my husband came home, I informed him that we'd be starting tonight. We would put her in her crib, drowsy but awake, and let her cry for 30 minutes. After which, if she was still crying, we would go to the room and sing to her, but not pick her up, and walk out. A simple plan for a monumental process that took an hour of self-exploration over the phone. "Will 5 minutes be OK? How about 10? 15? How will she respond if you sing to/ touch her? What are you going to do when she's crying to keep from going in?," and so on. We didn't make a plan beyond 30 minutes or for what I would do when I was waiting for those 30 minutes to pass. I couldn't know how I would react, so my plan was to wing it. I sobbed while she screamed, wrote a brief I'm-a-hypocrite-and-an-evil-mother email to my mother's group, and at minute 29 she stopped like the winder ran out. That was 7 weeks ago.
She never did cry longer than that first 29 minutes. But the crying didn't stop like I assumed. I had heard that many people need to do it again after teething, a cold, some disturbance. After events that happen for the better part of the first 2 years. "But it's easier," they'd say, "than the first time." But we never had a stretch- 2 days even- without some crying. Half the time she cries for less than 90 seconds, if at all. She likes to talk herself to sleep. Or do karate with Bun. That's very popular. But she does cry to sleep the other half of the time. Sometimes she cries off and on for up to 25 minutes. Often it's 12 minutes of crying, a little karate, then silence. No one warned us about this possibility. No one talks about it.
So I started some new research. It turns out it's pretty common for these Ferberized babies to never actually learn to fall asleep. If crying is the so-called learned method, I think it sucks. It takes me 12, sometimes 25 minutes to fall asleep, so that's understandable. But I don't usually cry doing it. A toss and a turn, a little karate to defend my half of the bed, sure. But crying? Nope. Ok, crying is one of the most significant ways a baby has to express herself. So what is she saying?... Mama, how could you leave me here? Oh, I'm so tired I wish I could just find the right position and fall asleep? The neighbors are too loud, why won't they just shut up?! That's the problem, I don't know. But it sure sounds distressing. Now here's the interesting part. I can listen to it and do nothing. Not only that, in seven weeks, I have learned to read, eat dinner, empty the dishwasher, water the garden- yes, enjoy myself while she's crying. I have advanced well beyond covering my ears, humming and rocking back and forth while my husband rubs my shoulders. Even more impressive, in this past week of night weaning- where she wakes and cries to nurse but we leave her there until some set time- I have turned down the volume on the monitor at 2:24 am and woken in a guilty panic at 4 to her crying, wondering, was she crying that whole time? Then I quickly answered myself, Nah.
07 July 2005
The Anti-Sleep
It was one of those moments. It lasted 3 hours. She won. We played with the Family Book long enough for her to scratch at a few faces, make like she was going to require a dreaded 4am diaper change, and finally succumb to sleep.
All this from a gal who is generally quite sensible. When it happens, I don't have the practice or the tools. I want to join her in her tantrum and hand her off to the guy "working" in So Cal. Hence the email. At least I could hand off a few words.
The second morning came all too soon and we're playing (!) again. God, she has no shame!

The Anti-Sleep rides the Dashboard Rocker, mocking last night.
